


Submit

by anoncock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, F/M, Gags, Kink Meme, Oral Sex, Shaving, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-17 14:23:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoncock/pseuds/anoncock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He always knows what's best for her, and she's always a good girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Submit

By this point, blind to the room and naked save a damp pair of knickers, she's not sure who first convinced whom; there are vague recollections of a conversation, her (her?) wondering if, maybe, do you think, they could take their sex-life (and she blushed, like always) to the next level, and him so quiet for so long. And then he says,  _Molly,_  and she melts, like always, even before he continues speaking; I dunno if you'd like what I'm, you know, into, and we don't have to...  
  
I want to. I want to. Please, Greg, let me.  
  
"You're not paying attention, Miss Hooper." His voice rumbles through her consciousness; her back stiffens automatically, even as the sudden cool breeze (window?) makes her shiver, her skin pebbling, nipples hardening - her body hair would be standing on end, if she had any left. That had been the hardest part, letting him slowly scrape a razor over her legs, her stomach, and down all the way to her... her... _your cunt, Molly, say it for me now_. Her cunt. She feels dirty.  
  
Are you sure about this, Molly?  
  
Yes. (No?)  
  
A hand curls into her unbound hair, not tugging, just... there. Settling. Stroking. She wants to push up into that hand, wants his affection more than anything in the world, but there's a whisper of leather and cotton stitching sliding down her cheek. She doesn't dare.  
  
Do you want to submit to me?  
  
Yes. (Maybe?)  
  
She's been on her knees, calves pushed wide by what he calls a spreader, for... how long? She doesn't... know. Exactly. He's been in and out of the room. She thinks. It's hard to tell whether he's gone or just - waiting. Watching her squirm. The gag is new, she muses blearily as he slides it in, making soft, soothing noises as she chokes, drool sticking to her chin. This whole thing is new. She wishes that he would do something, but she's beginning to realise it's not her place to decide.  
  
I know what's best for you, don't I?  
  
Yes.  _Yes._  
  
It's almost a relief when the gag is taken away, to be replaced by his cock. He moans when he shoves in, tugging at her hair harshly, too harshly, but he's groaning, "good girl, good girl, yes, relax your throat, open up for me, oh, that's it, good, good, clever pet." She swallows it all when he comes, if only to hear him call her that again. Please. Sir.  
  
Later, he rubs down her legs, holding her close, and bringing her slowly out of the subspace she's created.  
  
Such a good girl.


End file.
